I stick a knee out

underneath the blanket

and feel the Northern Hemisphere

I wait things out;

the slow dissolvement of dark dreams,

the morning doubts,

the apprehension of a final blow

to this way of life,

a next of kin's last wisp of patience,

turning into wrath and desertion,

the Bible's cruel and jelaous god returning

from the confines

of the ridiculously thin pages

of closed situations,

a fabulously fit body

cracking all that good shape

like an egotistic demigod a clay amphora;

yes, the pre-noon's badlands

do contain the everyday Herculean twelve labours,

until the mature afternoon daylight saves you

with it's daylight saving's time,

offering a cornucopia's wealth

of glorious possibilities

on a reassuring backdrop of stability and strength

in a wide world's far-reaching formulas

and formulations;

the evil, crippled Hebrew Jehovah driven back

into the closed circuit

of the ranting obsessions

of the laws

of the male Mid East chauvinist pigs of old

and their inferiority complexes,

so well illustrated by the ludicrous divinity

they shaped

- and human creativity commences to breathe

through afternoon and evening

in good faith,

until next morning, again, casts its venomous doubts

over the psychology of the living

and their impermanence